My Own Way Out
by purplerawr
Summary: The war left Draco with a dead father, a mother abroad and a paranoia that took over his life. On a chance meeting with Harry Potter, Draco decides to get back onto his feet... but will he find his own way out of the bad turn his life has taken? HPDM


_**My Own Way Out**_

**Author: purplerawr**

**Rated: T (so far)**

**Warnings for this chapter: preslash, major angst.**

**Disclaimer: None of the recognizable things belong to me! Not even Starbucks! :3  
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This was not the way Draco had always imagined going, no, it was not how he had envisioned it at all.

Firstly, he would have replaced the cold metal of a gun barrel with the hard wood of a wand against the back of his head. Secondly, the perpetrator of his timely demise would not have been a crazed, nameless, practically faceless Muggle but a crazed, identifiable, terrifying ex-supporter of Voldemort, on the prowl for revenge.

"I told you, gimme your wallet and nobody gets hurt." The Muggle man breathed thickly, perhaps thinking nothing beyond what the leather wallet contained and if it would be enough for his next fix, perhaps thinking about his poor family back home and the alcohol, heavy on his breath, an unfortunate coincidence, Draco could only muse to himself.

He had not expected to be so calm either. Perhaps it was the fact that he had spent the past few months imagining all manners of death and destruction on his person that, when the time really came, it was not a shock at all. The fact that it was so anticlimactic, in the most literal and metaphoric of senses, that Draco felt completely impervious to the fear usually associated with being on the point of death.

He just didn't care any more.

He could feel his wand in his pocket, a stem of life itching to save him if he was not going to try and save himself, but he ignored it. He was tired of running, the Muggle was likely to kill him quickly and run off, whereas a vengeful Voldemort supporter would take things nice and tortuously slowly.

"Kill me and take it." He said flatly, his voice the calmest it had sounded for so long, and he could feel the gun taken away from his head slightly. He sighed, and could not work out if it was because of relief or disappointment.

"I'll just take it." The man breathed, staring with a worried frown as Draco disinterestedly took his wallet out of his pocket and threw it onto the ground. The man had no shame in picking it up, his drug-addled hands shaking as he snatched it, and then he was gone, having melted back into the shadows from which he had come.

Draco told himself that he should walk on now, walk away from what just happened and get on with his life again as he knew he had to, but his body had other ideas. It carried him to the nearest wall of the alley and slumped down it, a few, solitary tears escaping from the prisons of his dark, slate-grey eyes.

He could not tell how long he had stayed there, though the last waning shards of evening light had long been lost to the city horizon, but he was roused by the sound of a concerned voice.

"Excuse me? Are you okay?" The voice asked and he did not have the will to answer, even move his eyes from their locked position, staring into the opposite wall yet looking at nothing. Somewhere in his mind a voice said reproachfully that the owner of the other voice was foolish to approach somebody slumped in an alley, someone who would easily be a murderer or a lunatic.

"Draco?" The sound of his name brought him back to proper consciousness. His eyes flicked to acknowledge the other person, he who attempted to break into the dark universe of his thoughts, and he woke up inside a hell of a lot more.

"Harry Potter." He whispered, his feelings a mixture of incredulous disbelief, wariness and shame. Anybody else could have found him... anybody else... but it had to be Harry Potter himself, the saviour of the wizarding world in the flesh.

The famed man was currently holding out his hand, saying something that skimmed over Draco's ears and then evaded them, and he looked very out of place, a ray of light in a dark, dark alleyway. Draco dimly registered his hand moving, as if of its own accord, and taking proffered limb.

He was gently hauled to his feet, for seconds feeling as if he was lifted, buoyant, free, but then the weight of his own being was forced back upon him and he could have sunk into the dirty asphalt, right where he belonged. He staggered, but the reassuring hand was still there and steadied him with ease.

"What happened to you?" Harry asked again, not minding that he was repeating himself, and checking over the man that he had not seen for what felt a very long time, though in retrospect it had only been a few months. He had seen Malfoy frequently at trials, collateral of the war, giving testimony. And he had supported him at his own trial, for which he had not, albeit that he hadn't expected it, received any recognition for – after that he had not seen him again.

He was looking the worst he had ever seen him, which made him feel that the calm, composed Malfoy at his trial had been a complete lie, a last ditch attempt at dignity. He looked anything but dignified now: his clothes were dirty, ruined by the grimy alleyway, and his face so pale that Harry swore he could see the faint blue vein lines threaded together beneath his skin. His eyes were dulled, containing none of the silver vibrancy that they had in youth, his lips chapped and slightly drawn down, carved into position from constant use.

His hands were shaking and his body language suggested that he was fearful, but his expression was one of resignation, which scared Harry more than anything else. He looked as if Harry had chosen to point a wand at him, _Avada Kedavra_ on the tip of his tongue, Malfoy simply would have stared, willing him to get it over with.

"I was just mugged." Draco replied simply, not expecting the look of sympathy aimed at him from those vivacious green eyes. He felt something spark up in him, from within, but it was soon dulled down and snuffed out by the overpowering sense of worthlessness that had been long-rooted in his heart.

"You were mugged? Merlin, what happened?" Harry asked, still holding Draco by the wrist because he looked permanently on the edge of fainting. Draco observed how he used the word Merlin instead of the Muggle choice word of God; he must still be in contact with the wizarding world, something that Draco missed sorely yet knew he could not go back to.

"He asked me quite calmly for my wallet," Draco addressed the wall, the burning emotion in Harry's eyes too much for him to be comfortable with, "And I said no. He aimed a gun at my head, asked again, and I readily conceded."

"Bloody hell, no wonder you look like you're about to pass out!" Harry exclaimed, his voice not even holding an echo of derision, as Draco had always pictured him, looking down on him from his Saviour throne and sneering as Draco had to him all those years ago. He looked indecisive, not scathing, when Draco surreptitiously glanced at him. "Do you want me to take you home?"

Draco thought about his dingy, messy apartment that he himself spent as little time in as possible (he had not gone to Gringotts in fear of being ambushed, so had scraped out a living in a dead end job instead) and on imagining Harry seeing this felt a pang of shame, just as he had on even seeing Harry. "No." He said, trying to keep his voice even.

"Okay then," Harry didn't argue, "Can I buy you a coffee?" Draco registered the question as he saw the tentative glance that Harry sent in his direction. He simply nodded and Harry smiled slightly as he led the way, keeping close to his unexpected companion.

They walked silently on the way to the nearest Starbucks, which looked practically empty during the mid-afternoon lull. Just the way Draco liked places nowadays; nearly devoid of people. Harry gestured to a table, which Draco slumped himself down at, and went to fetch two coffees. Perhaps he thought a decision on type of beverage was too much for Draco, having been mugged and everything.

He returned a few minutes later, still looking impeccably worried. Draco would have reassured him that he was absolutely fine, nothing to worry about, but he got a perverse enjoyment over being worried about. The only person possibly left to do that was his mother, but she had exiled herself to Italy and he did not want to intrude on her new life as a painful reminder of her past.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Harry asked, leaning forward slightly over his coffee cup, the harsh light of the café, battling the dull streets outside, still flattering against his tanned skin, dark (though still sinfully messy) hair and inquiring eyes.

"I'll live." Draco replied, willing his voice to be more than a half-hearted whisper, and taking a small sip of the burning hot liquid filling his polystyrene cup.

Harry leant back, radiance shifting away from Draco's colourless form, and unabashedly observed him. Draco felt as if he should be embarrassed, flushed slightly even, but his pallid face had no gusto in reacting to the careful scrutiny.

"You should at least report it-"

"No!" Draco blurted out in spite of himself, the faintest idea of contacting the wizarding world, even about a crime inflicted on him, was terrifying. He couldn't know who would be an ex-Death Eater in disguise and who would be somebody to trust. He still wasn't the biggest fan of Muggles, but at least now his conception of them all being completely untrustworthy, idiotic lower forms of human beings was out of the window – he was thankful about how unobtrusive and unassuming they all were. It helped that none of them knew him for his past mistakes and wrongdoings.

Harry simply blinked, raising his eyebrows in surprise behind the much more fashionable glasses he chose to wear nowadays, and Draco cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I don't think it's a good idea for me to go to the Ministry." He explained and Harry nodded.

"You could go to the Muggle authorities..." Harry trailed off when Draco shook his head.

"It's best that I don't bring too much attention to myself." Draco replied quietly and Harry saw how haunted he looked, the ghosts of grisly fear swirling in his eyes. He suppressed yet another urge to reach out and take his hand from the coffee cup, which was surely burning the delicate skin there, and hold it in both of his.

"I haven't seen you for a while." Harry stated, trying in vain to fill the heavy silence over them with small talk, but every question, even the one he had just asked, seemed far too personal. Draco looked away, blinking rapidly, and Harry could have kicked himself.

"I've been living in the Muggle world for a while." He replied, as if it had been rehearsed. "It's..." he smiled bitterly, "educational for me."

Harry decided that, seeming as no question seemed appropriate, he would just skip the pretences. "Why have you been avoiding the wizarding world?"

"They're out for me." Draco's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper and Harry leaned in again, despite himself; there was always something about the blonde Malfoy, especially since his disappearance months ago, that had always intrigued and puzzled him.

"Who?" He asked, though he had a good idea already.

"Voldemort supporters, people looking for the remaining weak facets of those on the light that can be exploited and brought down. I'm a target, that I know – I received a letter a few days after my trial where I was declared innocent, it was from a band of minor Death Eaters that had not been at the final battle, promising my death..."

"They have been caught, the whole ring of them. Britain is now Death Eater free, thanks to the improved Ministry." Harry informed him with conviction and Draco frowned slightly, a small crease running down his forehead.

"How do you- Why am I asking, this is you we're talking about. Let me guess, head of the Auror department already? Order of Merlin, first class?" He could not suppress the bitter surge in his voice; here he was, living in a poxy flat with nothing in life and Harry would probably be at the height of success and luxury for his efforts. It was as if their lives had completely turned around. Harry chuckled a bit, snapping him out of his sour reverie.

"No, I don't think that Quidditch Reporter for The Daily Prophet has much to do with catching dark wizards. I did get an Order of Merlin, though..." Harry, spurred on by Draco's sudden interest, went about detailing what he had done in the last few months. Most of it was avoiding reporters, baying for newsworthy blood, sorting out his new flat in London and getting acquainted with his new job. Also, Draco listened to this with the most interest, his relatively smooth break-up with Ginny Weasley, through what he described as "personal differences." Draco did not pry, though he really, really wanted to (some habits would stay with him for life, nosiness being one of them). It was odd enough that he was simply engrossed in Harry's recent news and not infuriated by some sense of injustice.

"So..." Harry shrugged, finally having run out of steam, "Would you return the favour?" He mentally slapped himself right after saying it. Why would Draco, having been in hiding for months and receiving a lot of hassle from the wizarding world ever since the end of the war, want to confide in Harry about anything?

"You mean... what I've been doing?" Draco's eyes darkened again, since Harry's prattling had seemed to lift him up a bit, and Harry cut in, flustered.

"No, no, forget about it. That was stupid. Sorry." He said quickly and lamely, a rogue movement of the hand knocking his coffee cup over the table and spraying Draco with its steaming remains. "Oh shit! Are you burnt?"

"A little bit..." Draco stared down at himself, simply bemused by the redness that had begun to show up on his alabaster arms. It was painful, but not unbearably so. He wished to show no further weaknesses in front of the other man; he must have looked pathetic already.

"Damn it, I should be banned from having hot drinks, I always seem to knock them over..." Harry muttered distractedly as he subtly edged his wand out of his pocket. At first Draco eyed it wearily on instinct, but then forced himself to calm down. Harry could have hurt him at any second, indeed on first seeing him, so was unlikely to now. Anyway, he was the saviour of the world; he wasn't about to start taking out people with no more reason than a bitter history.

"Give me your arm..." He said and Draco stretched it across the table. Harry took it gently into a hand, biting his lip. "I'm such an idiot." Draco could not help but wonder if he was referring to more than the burns. He waved his wand lightly, from where it was by his side, and without words he was able to heal the burns, leaving Draco's arm cool and tingling to boot.

"Thanks." Draco replied, equally as coolly, but for some reason his heart had sped up, the skin of his arm in contact with Harry's hand burning in a much more pleasant manner. He reluctantly took his arm back, but then scolded himself. Just because he had not had any contact with anybody he remotely knew for a long time did not mean he would get all excited about touching Harry Potter. He was lonely, but not desperate.

He looked up from his arm and found himself trapped in Harry's gaze. He had not seen the other man ever look so serious, most probably because he had never really bothered looking at him in all the years they had known each other, at school only satisfied when Harry was looking angry or upset and irked himself whenever he looked happy. Never had he seen him thoughtful, unbearably intense in his eye contact, until now. Draco felt as if he was sinking into his eyes, nearly swallowed beyond return into their green depths.

"I have a confession to make." Harry said slowly, causing Draco to blink and regain his own self slightly. Harry then looked away, his lips rearranging themselves into a slight grimace. "I've been searching for you."

So not only dark wizards had been after him. The news came as a shock; he had expected Harry to gladly ignore him after the court case, not go all out and _search _for him.

"Why?" He found himself asking, his voice nothing more than a disbelieving murmur. Why indeed?

"Well..." Harry's grimace disappeared out of view as he ducked his head slightly, "I was worried, I guess. It was so soon after the end of the war, everybody was finding it tough to deal with, and you just disappeared... after being pardoned and everything. I found it hard to believe that you would be all right, like everybody else said. I just had a huge... desire... to find you. And it turns out you weren't okay, at all."

"I only got mugged by a Muggle," Draco defended his sanity, "It was a one-off thing. I'm fine in all other respects. You don't have reason to worry." Though it is quite a nice thing, the voice in the back of his mind admitted.

"No, you're not..." Harry stressed, looking up again, "I saw you slumped in an alleyway, completely out of it. You looked like you just didn't want to live any longer. I could even sense it at the trial, something wasn't right... you looked trapped, afraid, helpless, though you hid it well. Your father had already gone, having killed himself on the night of the battle, and your mother was far away from you. You had nothing left but your own self, no friends to support and comfort you. You were alone." He fell quiet, but was still staring. Seconds passed in centuries.

Draco crossed his arms tightly over his chest, feeling as if otherwise he would fall apart from the inside. Never again would he think of Harry as completely obtuse and emotionally deficient. He had it spot on. Draco was alone, afraid; he didn't want to live such a life any more. He had nobody left to help him, so he was trapped inside his own darkness without any light to guide him.

He said none of this.

"Draco..." Harry reached out and put a hand over his, "Please come back with me. I don't want to leave you like this."

The offer was more tempting than Draco would like to admit, but he knew that giving into it would mean dependency on another person, which was something he very much did not want. If he was going back, he would have to make the journey on his own.

"No," he said, and quietened Harry by taking his hand in his own, "I won't need your help with this. I can do this myself." Then he let go with all the willpower he had.

Harry blinked, looking disappointed, but also as if he understood. He gave a solitary nod. "That's good to hear."

It felt good to Draco's own ears too, and not completely beyond him. A plan was forming in his mind in those very moments... he would go back to Malfoy Manor and claim it as his rightful inheritance (right now it was under temporary ministry ownership, having been cleaned out of the dark artefacts his father had hoarded away) and then get onto his own two feet, obtaining a respectable job... and the social standing he had lost, but this time by honest means...

He could really do this.

He stood resolutely, his head high and his shoulders no longer hunched. Despite his less than pristine hair and coffee stained clothing, he looked like his old self again, proud and noble. Not to mention completely beautiful, Harry thought to himself before he could stop the very notion from entering his head.

"I'm going to the Ministry." He announced and then walked out without a word of goodbye, which Harry was thankful for anyway, it would only have been awkward. He just hoped that the next time he saw him, Draco would be successful... he decided to keep an eye on him anyway. He had been looking out for him over the past few months – why stop now...?

With that Harry made his own way out.

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**A/N: So... I haven't written anything in a while, so here's something new! I have no idea when (or even if) there will be a sequel, but please send me a review whether you liked it or disliked it! (I always welcome constructive criticism.) Reviews make me happy, no matter how short and simple they are ^^ and flames just make me laugh...**

**- purplerawr**


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